


Constant Obedience

by KatesBrain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-25
Updated: 2005-11-25
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatesBrain/pseuds/KatesBrain
Summary: Kingsley has issues with being taught by Moody, and Moody deals with this in his own way.- originally posted March 2005





	Constant Obedience

  
Author's notes: **This was written for hpvalensmut.** Many thanks to Sue for the beta.  


* * *

A persistent, high-pitched beeping dragged Kingsley from a blissful dream where he was being fed grapes by a group of adoring, scantily-clad women and fanned by semi-naked eunuchs. He groaned and pulled himself upright, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

 

“Kingsley, turn that bloody alarm clock off!”

 

With a bad-tempered thump, he silenced the clock. _It’s all right for her_ , he thought _. She doesn’t have to go to these ridiculous training sessions with that nutter from the Ministry._

 

As much as he wanted to become an Auror like his father, he couldn’t help but see the time spent with Moody as nothing but a big joke: Moody might have been a good Auror once, but now, the man was clearly unbalanced, and the only thing he seemed capable of teaching was intense paranoia. But Kingsley had no choice; no matter how cheated he felt at being assigned to Moody’s class, he had to feign some sort of interest or else find himself another career.

 

He dragged himself out of bed, prising her off him--it was typical for her to assume a quick roll in the sack would take his mind off things, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood. Pulling his trousers on, he wondered why she was always so blasé about his frustration and why she couldn’t see that it was so important to him. As far as she was concerned, as long as he passed the course it didn’t matter if he didn’t have a fantastic teacher. But he wanted to be the best; he _needed_ to be the best, so he could get those Death Eaters who had been responsible for his father’s death. Being taught by Moody seemed a sure fire way to being a mediocre Auror _if_ he was lucky.

 

“Don’t forget tonight,” she called out sulkily from the bed as he slipped on his shoes and cloak.

 

“Tonight?” he asked, trying not to show the uncertainty in his voice. It was obviously important, since she expected him to remember at this time of the morning.

 

“Yes, tonight. The meal. Our anniversary.”

 

He winced at her sharp tone and the fact that she had to make such a big deal of being together for all of one year. 

 

“Seven o’clock, right? I’ll be back long before then.”

 

**

 

“Shacklebolt, I want a word after class,” Alastor Moody grunted, prompting a look of disdain from the younger man.

 

Moody had had enough; if Shacklebolt wasn’t going to bother giving his all, then there wasn’t any point in him continuing. The other students didn’t seem to have any problems with knuckling down and getting on with what was asked of them, but Shacklebolt clearly didn’t have any respect for the training--his lacklustre attitude showed that he was missing the point of what it meant to be an Auror. The bottom line was that you did what you were told otherwise you put yourself and others at risk. Today, Shacklebolt would have to prove just how much becoming an Auror meant to him. If he couldn’t, Moody would have him kicked out of the training programme for good.

 

Once the others had left, Kingsley scuffed his way to the front of the room, wearing a sulky expression. 

 

“What is it?” he asked insolently.

 

“Your attitude, _boy_ ,” Moody barked. “It changes now, or you’re out.”

 

“What do you mean? I haven’t missed a single session. I’ve done all the work you’ve asked. What else am I supposed to do?”

 

“You do the bare minimum, and I’m not willing to have anyone in my class who’s not giving one hundred percent. I want you to be completely focused; you have to give me your full attention and unquestioning obedience, not some slap-dash, half-arsed, I-know-better-than-this shit that you’ve been giving me.”

 

“Perhaps I could change to a different tutor if we have problems seeing eye to eye.”

 

“You’re in _my_ class. And if my class isn’t good enough, then _you’re_ not good enough. An Auror doesn’t get to choose their superiors; they have to show respect to whoever they’re assigned.” Moody could see Shacklebolt’s face drop at the implication he might not make it as an Auror. _At least he seems to give a damn_ ,Moody thought. _So there’s a hope for the lad yet_. “If you want to become an Auror, you’ll have to show me complete obedience in future. How can I trust that you’ll give it to me?” 

 

“I…I’ll make more of an effort from now on…I--”

 

“That’s not good enough; you’ll only make an effort until the novelty wears off, and then I’ll be back to chucking you out of my class,” Moody said with an air of certainty. “I tell you what we’ll do; you show me just how obedient you can be tonight, and I’ll reconsider letting you continue with the training. Are you ready to show me just how much you want to be an Auror?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, get undressed then.”

 

**

 

“Huh?” Kingsley stuttered, utterly surprised by the order.

 

“I said, ‘get undressed’,” Moody grunted, fixing Kingsley with his magical eye. “You want a second chance, boy? Then you’ve got to show me that you’re capable of following my every command; you will obey me without any questions--no matter how embarrassing or humiliating you might find the situation. And tonight I _will_ do my damnedest to embarrass and humiliate you: I need to know that you’re made of better stuff than I’ve seen so far. I will push you as far as I think is necessary, and if you fail, you can walk straight out of here and _never_ bother to come back.”

 

Kingsley felt decidedly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of Moody’s gaze, and it was several moments before he realised that Moody was waiting for some sort of response from him. Well, he wasn’t about to give this nutter the satisfaction of throwing him out of the class over the issue of nudity. In a business-like manner he proceeded to strip, pointedly dropping each item of clothing at Moody’s feet and making sure that Moody saw that he wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest.

 

“Right, to start off with, we’re going to work on the barriers that you’ve put up, with a bit of duelling. Then we can focus more on shaping up your attitude and deal with your lack of obedience.” 

 

“Duelling?” Kingsley asked in surprise. Moody expected him to duel naked? “Like this?”

 

“You don’t think it ever happens? If you can’t do it in front of me, how the hell are you going to do it in front of the enemy?” Moody bowed to Kingsley, raising his wand. “And be ready, Shacklebolt. The enemy will _always_ go for the weakest point. You’d better be quick, because you _know_ where I’m going to be aiming.”

 

Kingsley bowed as well, cursing Moody under his breath for being such a sadistic bastard. As if this was going to be a very fair--or realistic--fight. After a count of three, the pair of them began casting hexes and counter-hexes in earnest, and Kingsley managed to deflect all of those thrown his way. It was when Moody misfired and severed a chair leg cleanly in two that Kingsley was caught short. _Was that intentional?_ he wondered. _Or does he really intend to slice my cock off?_ He swallowed at the thought, and before he knew what had happened, Moody had cast a specialised Reducto curse right at his crotch.

 

Kingsley stared down in horror at his shrunken groin, and Moody took the opportunity to shoot out binds from his wand that wrapped around Kingsley’s wrists, knocking Kingsley’s wand to the floor. With a quick flick of his wand, Moody magically tied them to the ceiling. 

 

“And now you’ve ended up totally defenceless,” Moody said with disdain, and Kingsley glared back at him in fury. “Do you know why this happened? Because you’ve got your priorities wrong, boy. That’s why.” Moody pulled a chair over and sat down, blatantly staring at Kingsley as he futilely tried to escape from his restraints. “I know a werewolf who was caught out once. Death Eaters turned up just after his transformation. Luckily he had a friend with him, as he was very weak. But he still fought--well enough to keep his life; he didn’t let a lack of clothing--or a fear for his cock--get in the way. He didn’t suddenly stop and let his guard down because of the thought of what a particular curse could do to his prick. And this is potentially only the beginning if you are ever caught by a Death Eater. Do you still want to be an Auror? Do you still think you’ve got what it takes?” 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then we’ll move on… to attitude, obedience and an introduction to exactly what a Death Eater is capable of once he’s got you in this position. So, this attitude of yours…why do you have a problem showing me any respect?”

 

Kingsley scowled, stubbornly refusing to reply. As if his opinion of Moody had any relevance to his ability to be an Auror. 

 

Moody got up from his chair to move behind him, and Kingsley heard a _smack_ at the same time that a sharp stinging sensation spread across his backside. He couldn’t believe it: Moody had actually _hit_ him.

 

“If you insist on not answering my questions, I’ll have to assume you’re no longer interested, and this little _trial_ will be over.”

 

It didn’t take long for Kingsley to think this over; he soon relented to Moody’s questioning, “Everyone thinks you’re a nutter,” he muttered.

 

“Everyone,eh? So why doesn’t _everyone_ show me the lack of respect that you do?” Moody asked. “Could it be that everyone--except for you--can look past the image when it comes to learning from me? They might think that I’m a ‘nutter’, but they still appreciate that I know a damn sight more than they do, and that I do my job _well._ ” As Moody walked back to the chair, Kingsley was stunned to see him holding a riding crop in his left hand. “In my class, you are learning from me. I want your full attention, one hundred percent of the time. No exceptions. There may come a day when I have to ask any one of you to do something that you find questionable because you do not fully understand my motivations. It’s then that I will need to know that you have your priorities in order. If we get into a dangerous situation through the course, then I don’t want any students of mine risking their lives--and the lives of others--just because they think they can question my authority.” 

 

Moody continued to pace the classroom, and Kingsley wondered if he was again expecting some sort of reply. But before Kingsley could think of anything appropriate, Moody continued. 

 

“At the moment, I don’t believe for one second that I’d have your complete trust in those circumstances. And this is the biggest obstacle that you’ve got to overcome tonight: obedience. You have to prove that you are not only capable, but also willing, to obey my every word, without questioning it. Can you do this?”

 

Kingsley nodded.

 

“At the same time, I’m going to treat this as a lesson in conduct: how you _must_ behave if ever caught by the enemy. Tell me, what do you think should be the most important thing to you if that happened?”

 

“Escape,” Kingsley replied without hesitation, and he winced when Moody hit him once again with the riding crop.

 

“No! The thing that should be first and foremost in your head is _your job_. If an opportunity for escape arises, then you take it if--and only if--it is to the benefit of your position as an Auror. There may be some circumstances under which it would be prudent to remain where you are and sit it out. _Nothing_ is more important than your job. You don’t just work as an Auror; you _are_ an Auror. _Nothing_ takes priority over this, no matter what they do to you. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, let’s see just how well you understand this principle and how much potential you have. Imagine I’m a Death Eater, and I’m looking for weakness, anything that I can exploit. You must bury yours. Remember, it doesn’t matter what they put you through, you do what’s needed to be done to ensure you get the information you want and they don’t get any from you, bar any misinformation that you need to pass on.”

 

Kingsley tried to fight the nausea he felt as Moody used his wand to toy with Kingsley’s cock, sparks occasionally shooting from the end of the wand. 

 

“Tell me, Kingsley. Would you like me to reverse the curse that I hit you with earlier?”

 

“Yes.”

 

In an instant, Moody hit Kingsley sharply across the tops of his thighs with the crop, causing Kingsley to flinch. 

 

“Wrong answer. _Never_ let a Death Eater know you _want_ something. You can guarantee you won’t get it, but they will use it against you. Let’s try again. Do you want me to reverse the curse?”

 

“I’m not bothered,” Kingsley said, trying his best to sound unmoved by the prospect of Moody leaving him as he was.

 

“So I could make you go home like it, make you wait until next week. Leave you to try screwing your girlfriend with it. Because I’m more than capable of doing that.” Kingsley’s thoughts drifted to the meal he was supposed to be going to that evening and what his girlfriend would say afterwards if she saw him as he was now. _She_ certainly wouldn’t be amused. “I could even make it smaller…” Moody continued. “What do you say, are you sure you want to be left this… inadequate?”

 

Kingsley closed his eyes. What was more important: the risk of upsetting his girlfriend or the risk of annoying Moody enough to chuck him off the course? The choice was obvious; it didn’t matter what Moody did to his cock, as long as he was able to become an Auror. “I don’t care,” he answered finally.

 

He was rewarded with a look of respect from Moody, who then reversed the curse. As his groin returned to its original size, a warm tingle spread through his cock and he gasped in pleasure. Immediately, Moody whacked him once more with the crop, warm tendrils of pain snaking along the backs of Kingsley’s thighs. 

 

“You give _any_ sign of weakness, boy, and they will seize upon it and find a way to exploit it--a gasp, a cry, a sigh, a moan, even the barest of twitches. You remain immobile, unresisting in body, passive, silent. You let them do exactly what they want to you, and you let _none_ of it affect you.” Moody stepped closer so that Kingsley could feel warm breath ghosting across his skin. “Have you ever played the Muggle card game Poker?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Then you’re familiar with the term ‘poker face’?” Kingsley nodded. “Well, that’s the only expression I want to see on your face tonight. No smiles, groans, giggles, not even a twitch. You must keep your poker face at all times.” Moody flicked his wand and transfigured the crop into a paper knife before running his finger along the knife edge. “Now the enemy… they will find and use _any_ weakness.”

 

Moody approached Kingsley once more, the knife glinting in the light. “There are three main areas of vulnerability,” he continued, and he suddenly jabbed the knife into Kingsley’s left buttock. It wasn’t hard enough to break the skin, but Kingsley still had to bite his lip from letting out an instinctive ‘ow!’

 

“Pain,” Moody said, holding his wand out to magically sharpen the knife. He then held the razor-sharp implement across the base of Kingsley’s cock, drawing it from side to side in a light sawing action. “Fear.” Kingsley’s eyes widened, and he prayed to whatever god was listening that he hadn’t made a huge mistake in agreeing to prove himself that evening. “And lastly, sexual excitement.” As he said these last words, Moody transfigured the knife into a feather and swept it along the underside of Kingsley’s cock, prompting an unsolicited moan from Kingsley. “What would you like to work on first?”

 

Kingsley didn’t want to work on any of them--well, maybe sexual excitement, in the privacy of his own home and when Moody was nowhere around. He considered what Moody would probably want to hear and said, “You’re more qualified than I am to make that decision.”

 

“Good. You’re learning. Perhaps we should find out if you’re more susceptible to one than the others.”

 

Using a modified form of the Cruciatus curse, Moody aimed his wand at Kingsley’s right shoulder, and Kingsley fought to remain motionless, despite the pain. Gritting his teeth, Kingsley focused all his attention on a cobweb in the corner of the room.

 

“Excellent. Now fear,” Moody said as he moved the point at which the curse was directed slowly downwards, all the while intently studying Kingsley’s face for a reaction. 

 

Kingsley had no doubts where Moody was heading, and he hoped the beads of sweat that had started to accumulate on his brow wouldn’t give away his panic. But Moody either didn’t see them or he was willing to tolerate such an automatic response, for now. Just as the spot of pain brushed the edge of his cock, Kingsley felt it stop.

 

“I have to say I’m impressed, Shacklebolt. Not even a flinch. Perhaps I should reward you.”

 

The pain morphed into a tingling sensation, and it spread out to encompass Kingsley’s entire cock, rippling back and forth from end to tip. He closed his eyes and groaned, jerking his hips forwards as his cock started to show an interest.

 

A stinging whack to his buttocks brought Kingsley suddenly back to his senses, and he opened his eyes to see Moody hold the riding crop once more. 

 

“What happened to the poker face?” Moody asked, lowering his wand and ending the spell. “I think it’s very evident what you main weakness is: you’re obsessed with your cock--most men at your age are. So we need to work on not responding to pleasure. Shall we make it easier for you by eliciting a mixture of revulsion and pleasure, before finding out just how much stimulation you can take without letting it show?”

 

To Kingsley’s astonishment, Moody dropped the crop and took hold of Kingsley’s cock firmly in one gnarled hand, stroking it slowly.

 

“I’m your teacher, more than ten years your senior. And I know I’m not much of a pretty picture. But here I have you strung up in front of me while I wank you off at my leisure.” He rubbed his thumb over the slit and then ran his hand back down to cup Kingsley’s sac. “I can feel and explore every bump, every ridge. This is my toy, and you can do nothing but stand there as I take the opportunity to abuse you in any way I wish. How does that make you feel?”

 

Kingsley couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was decidedly ambivalent about the situation. On the one hand, the actual sensation was very pleasurable, but on the other, this was _Moody_ eliciting those feelings from him and that alone was enough to stop Kingsley from giving any indication that it was affecting him.

 

“Answer me,” Moody demanded with a harsh tug to Kingsley’s foreskin. “How does this make you feel?”

 

“It doesn’t make me feel anything,” Kingsley replied stonily, and a pleased, half-smile appeared on Moody’s lips.

 

Moody stopped squeezing and relaxed his hand so that Kingsley’s cock just rested across his palm. “Spread your legs,” he barked, and Kingsley followed his order without thinking, causing his cock to brush against Moody’s inert hand as he did so. 

 

Moody flicked his wand once more, and Kingsley felt as if there were two hands on his buttocks, pulling them apart, exposing him from behind and letting the chill air sweep across his entrance. Moody pushed two weathered fingers up against Kingsley’s lips.

 

“Suck them,” Moody said. “Make them wet.”

 

Hesitantly, Kingsley opened his mouth and let the digits work their way inside, sliding against his tongue. He jerked as Moody hit him once more, this time with his wand, catching Kingsley across his opening.

 

“If this ever happens to you,” Moody growled, “make sure you get as much spit on them as possible, as you can be damn sure it’s the only lubricant you’ll get. And look at me when you’re doing it.”

 

Both of Moody’s eyes were focused on him, the magical one occasionally rolling downwards as if looking through Kingsley’s body and out the other side. Looking into Moody’s eyes, Kingsley hastily wrapped his tongue around Moody’s fingers, coating them with saliva and wondering if Moody really did intend to do what he was implying. Kingsley couldn’t help but be intrigued as to how much Moody was getting off on all this, but there was nothing, no reaction on his face, to show that Moody was getting anything out of the situation. 

 

Satisfied that Kingsley had done his job properly, Moody grunted and moved his fingers round to start pushing them inside. Kingsley’s whole body tensed, prompting Moody to push that much harder. 

 

“Don’t resist, boy. You’re the only one who’ll get injured by resisting; they’ll force you anyway. You don’t need to add to the injuries they’ll give you.” 

 

Kingsley tried to relax, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that this was _Moody_. With a grunt, Moody untied Kingsley’s wrists.

 

“All right then, boy. You can be the one to do the work. Lean on the desk and push backwards,” Moody said, flicking his wand and summoning a full-length mirror to stand in front of the desk. “And remember, I don’t want to see _anything_ on your face that could give away what you really feel.”

 

Placing his hands on the desk, Kingsley lifted his head to see Moody’s gaze staring right back at him over his shoulder in the mirror. He jumped slightly as the two fingers were pressed up against him once more. 

 

“Obedience, Shacklebolt,” Moody growled in his ear, and Kingsley was taken aback that he had to suppress a shiver when Moody’s lips brushed against his neck.

 

Kingsley shifted his hips backwards, concentrating on his breathing and keeping it deep and even as he felt the thick digits begin to breach him. He had never done anything like this before; the only time he had suggested it to his girlfriend out of curiosity, she had made it very clear just how perverted she thought he was for having the gall to ask. He could feel Moody’s knuckles against his skin, the fingers now fully inside him. They twitched, swiping at a spot that had Kingsley biting his tongue in his attempt not to respond. 

 

“Fuck yourself on them,” Moody said, twitching his fingers again.

 

Kingsley began to slide up and down on Moody’s fingers, the taste of blood in his mouth, wishing that he could let out the groan which was building in the pit of his stomach. He began to build up the pace, rocking faster and faster, until suddenly, Moody withdrew completely. Then he let out a high-pitched gasp at another sting from Moody’s crop.

 

“Poker face, Shacklebolt; I don’t need to see your look of disappointment.” Kingsley felt the tip of Moody’s wand against him, and his cock jerked at the thought of Moody fucking him with that next. “I’m going to go easy on you, boy. Get you used to the idea.” He flicked the wand, tapping Kingsley’s entrance with it sharply and muttering a spell, and Kingsley felt a cold tingle rippled through him, followed by a moist sensation. “If an Auror’s got any sense, they’ll make sure they’re as physically prepared as possible to handle being _taken_. Buy yourself a dildo and practise fucking yourself--keep yourself stretched. That way, if you ever get caught by the enemy, it’ll help to keep the damage they can do to a minimum. You can pretend to be a complete novice, sure. But if you really are one…well, it’s an experience that I don’t recommend.” 

 

Moody paused to drive into Kingsley up to the hilt with one decisive thrust. Kingsley let another moan escape and pushed backwards onto Moody’s cock. In an instant, a hand was in his hair, yanking his head up to regain the eye contact that Kingsley had not even realised had been broken.

 

“Remember no reactions. I don’t want to know what you’re thinking.”

 

Moody continued to pound into Kingsley, rubbing against his prostrate with every stroke, and Kingsley willed himself to just stand there and take it, staring into Moody’s expressionless face. A ball of pressure was building inside him, and Kingsley resisted the temptation to let his eyes roll back in their sockets. Again and again, Moody slid his cock all the way in, until a sudden a shower of stars clouded Kingsley’s vision and he came, letting out a gasp of surprise.

 

“This is how it’s done, boy,” Moody growled into his ear. And then Kingsley could feel two short, sharp jerks and warmth inside him. But not a hair on Moody’s head moved, not a single facial muscle twitched, and not the slightest noise escaped from his mouth. He could have been reading the Sunday papers for all that showed on his face.

 

Moody withdrew and stepped back, telling Kingsley to get dressed.

 

“I suppose you’ll do,” Moody said as Kingsley started to pull his clothes on. “You’ve proved your obedience for now, but if you dare to fail me again in that respect, I will throw you out of my class in an instant. I take it you do want to stay in the class?”

 

“Yes,” Kingsley replied without hesitation. Over the course of the evening, he seen another side to Moody, and he realised that, however nutty he may seem, Moody really did seem to know what he was talking about. Kingsley wondered whether Moody would ever dare to teach like that in class, and he was shocked by the realisation that he wanted to be on the receiving lesson of a similar lesson in the future. “I’d like to learn more, sir.” Moody looked up at him and grunted. Just in case his meaning wasn’t clear enough, Kingsley added, “Learn more about what could happen to me in the hands of the enemy, how I can prepare.”

 

For the first time that evening, Kingsley saw the corners of Moody’s lips curl upwards to give a knowing smile. 

 

“I suppose I could teach you more about the methods that dark wizards could employ against you--build up your resistance, work on reducing your reactions,” Moody said, his magical eye drifting downwards over Kingsley’s form, and Kingsley felt his cock jump inside the confines of his trousers in response. “You can stay behind after the next lesson if you want.”

 

Moody walked out, leaving Kingsley alone in the classroom with his thoughts. Looking up at the clock, Kingsley swore under his breath; it was nearly nine o’clock. She was going to be furious. _Still_ , he told himself, _no matter how much shit she gives me, it was worth it_. He pulled his coat on and hurried out, his steps echoing off the stone floor. 

 

As he approached the flat, he was surprised to see it in darkness. She had gone out without him. But once he had opened the door and muttered _lumos_ with a flick of his wand, it was evident that she had not left just for the evening; drawers had been pulled open and emptied, and there was a Dear John letter waiting for him on the side. 

 

As he skimmed through the letter, he sat down heavily on the bed and started to laugh. He knew exactly what Moody would have to say about it: he was better off without her, and Kingsley couldn’t help but agree. He could see now that personal relationships were just another weakness that could be exploited. He didn’t need them, and he certainly didn’t need her. Dropping the letter on the floor, he laid back and unzipped his trousers. It was time for a bit of revision of what Moody had taught him that evening, and he was sure it wouldn’t hurt to have a think about what Moody might want to teach him next week.

 


End file.
